


Is There Anybody on the Air?

by presidentbees



Category: Homestuck
Genre: H.G. Wells - Freeform, Michigan, Oneshot, Other, POV Nepeta Leijon, War of the Worlds, radio broadcast, this is indulgent homestuck trash but whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 01:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5228960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/presidentbees/pseuds/presidentbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end of the world, and the first wave is coming from the quiet town of Maybee, Michigan. Nepeta Leijon, radio host for WJM 101.9., reports everything from the moment that the aliens land, to the hours where the city's lights go out for good. </p><p>“Is there anybody on the air? Is there anybody on the air? Is there anybody…out there?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is There Anybody on the Air?

Nothing ever happened in Maybee, Michigan; it was a sleepy community tucked into the forgotten suburbs. Like every other small town, Maybee had a church, a grocery store, a hardware store that doubled as a local gossiping spot, and an abandoned saw mill from when the town had been founded in 1870. The only real attractions were Sue Anne’s potbuns – large baked dumplings filled with warm meat, vegetables, and gravy – and their radio station, WJM 101.9. 

WJM 101.9 started off as a small radio station that’s main purpose was to inform the town’s citizens about world affairs, keep up with the community news, play music, and occasionally relay prayer requests. Up to 2015, nothing had changed other than the station’s ownership. 

The population of Maybee was made up of people who had always lived there and didn’t intend to leave; second or third generation kids that didn’t know anyplace outside of Maybee except what they had read in books; and people that had moved into Maybee for a temporary taste of the country, but never got around to leaving. 

Maybee was the type of place where the world could end and nobody would ever hear about it. Being able to work at the radio station – which as perched on top of the tallest hill a ways out of town so that it looked over the entire town of Maybee – reminded Nepeta why she had always loved living there all her life. 

Through the sound of country music, there was a barely audible tap at the window of Nepeta’s radio booth. Head shooting up from scribbling on her script – a really bad habit of hers that she needed to break – Nepeta saw that intern Vichelle was holding up a pad of paper to the glass looking into Nep’s booth. It wasn’t unusual for an intern or a secretary to get her attention with a tap at the window, but it was strange to see a terrified looking intern holding a pad of paper with the words “CALL FOR YOU” hastily scrawled in purple marker. 

Confused, Nepeta reached into her pocket for her flip phone, but as she thumbed open the lid, she saw that she hadn’t missed any text messages or calls. She didn’t have service at all, actually. 

The intern tapped at the window again, a new message written out. “FROM THE MAIN PHONE,” it read. 

Sure enough, one of the three red lights on the call board was flashing. Nepeta hadn’t opened up the lines for calls yet, and in her three years of working at the station, not counting her time interning there, she hadn’t run into many people trying to call in the lunchtime hours. It was possible that somebody wanted to request a song – there was always the possibility that it was someone’s anniversary or birthday and wanted to hear an old classic – but Vichelle was an older sister of four siblings, a veteran of child raising, and there was very little that could get a rise out of her. 

Nepeta had heard all about Vichelle’s siblings. She was the oldest of four, the youngest being Tamika, who was 13, and Vichelle acted a lot like a mother hen to them all. When she wasn’t at the radio station, she was doing work as an “internet entertainer,” as Vichelle liked to call it. Nepeta really liked Vichelle, she had a spark to her personality; she was fairly certain that when Kankri “Kan” Vantas finally retired, Vichelle was going to be the first in line to take his place. Vichelle was many things – loud, expressive, protective – but she was not someone who lose her cool over something like a phone call. 

Setting down her pen, Nepeta reached for her headphones, pushing the blinking call button and listening to the click of the phone call being received. “This is Nepeta Leijon with WJM 101.9, what’s going on in Maybee for you?” 

The line was silent. Was this a prank? Did someone call the radio just to scare Vichelle and then hang up? Nep sighed and was about to push the button to end the call, when there was a burst of static from the line and the screaming started. 

“-see them now from over the edge of the trees. They look like giant beetles and they’re spraying out green lights. They came out of the mountain holes and I can’t find my friend, Tony, he was in the cave and I think he’s dead, oh god.” 

“Hold up,” Nepeta cut in when the caller paused for breath. “What’s going on? Where are you at?”

The caller hiccupped, choking on their words. “We are, or I-I mean, I’m in the woods by the old mills and-”

While the caller rambled, Nepeta reached over to flip off the music track, broadcasting the call. “I’m sorry to intpurrupt you here, but purr live on the air. Can you tell me a little purr about what you’ve seen?” Her lisp was coming out again, like it always did when she started to get stressed. 

“Yeah, yeah sure. Uhm. They’ve moved beyond the trees now, I think they’re heading farther into the woods, but uhm, I saw these really big things, like giant bugs crawling out of the mountain and I think they took my friend, Tony,” The caller’s voice was panicked sounding, but clear. It was evident that if they were on some kind of drugs then they were putting up one hell of a performance. 

“And what’s happening now?” 

“I can’t see them anymore, so I think they’ve—ahhhAhhhAHHHHHHHH” 

The line exploded into another round of screaming; it sounded like the caller had dropped their phone to the ground and, in the background, Nepeta could hear the sounds of trees crashing before the line went dead in a grating shriek. 

Nepeta sat there, stunned. One by one, the caller board became a mess of red, angry lights. Outside, the noon sun shone just as brightly as it had before, but Nep could almost see the traces of smoke coming up from Maybee lay on the horizon. 

Hands shaking, she answered the next call. “This is Nepeta with WJM 101.9, caller two you are on the air. What’s going on in Maybee for you today?”

What else was there to do? Each call brought in more news: the beetles had been spotted coming out of the sky, not the mountain; the main roads were too torn up from recent construction and nobody could get out of the town; the Nitram’s farm was in flames and the fire department was fighting a losing battle; woods were burning; people were calling in to tell their relatives to stay inside; the beetles weren’t responding to gunfire. From the seclusion of her radio booth, Nepeta worked to keep the community informed, until slowly, the calls began to trickle off. 

The last caller ended their call. “Dave, if you’re still listening to this, stay in the basement. I’ll try to be home as soon as I can, but…I’ll see you as soon as I can. Be safe.” A pause, then: “You be safe too, Nepeta, and to everybody listening to this.” 

“Thank you, Karkat. Safe travels on your way home.” The call clicked off and Nep was left alone in her booth. Silence enveloped her. 

Setting down the pencil she had been worrying with, Nepeta got up from her chair, not bothering to go “OFF AIR.” Playing country music time at a dire time like this seemed almost sacrilegious and having the idea that she wasn’t alone, that there were people hanging onto her words if she started talking again, helped to sooth her paranoia. 

A quick breeze through the station confirmed that Nepeta was the only person there. Vichelle had left a note on the front desk, saying that she had gone back to get her siblings out of school, and Kankri hadn’t shown up for his shift, even though the sun was starting to dip low in the horizon. Nep stopped to pour herself a mug of coffee, and looked out the window on the city of Maybee. 

The red horizon was spotted with roving black dots that were perched on impossibly long legs, like a Dali giraffe. There were fewer than there had been before, but Nepeta would have bet her bottom dollar that there were more of them coming out of the mountain – or the sky, or the lake, or the ground, wherever they were really from – and slowly making their way across Michigan. 

Sitting back in her booth, Nepeta placed her headphones over her hair and spoke into the microphone. “At 12:30 noon today, June 3rd, 2015, a series of space invaders were spotted in our town of Maybee, Michigan, population of 600 persons.” Emotions welled up in her chest. “This is Nepeta Leijon, broadcaster for WJM 101.9. Is there anybody on the air?” 

The signal went out over burned farms and crushed homes; across charred bodies and the black beetles that came out of the mountain; it was sent to radios left unattended and to the others that were being cradled in laps like precious jewels. Nepeta Leijon’s voice, the voice of the end of the world, called out from a single radio booth in the town of Maybee, Michigan. 

“Is there anybody on the air? Is there anybody on the air? Is there anybody…out there?”

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously one of my favorite things that I've gotten to work on as a small personal project. I wrote this for "Shut the F*ck up and write" challenge of 2015, and it's stuck with me. 
> 
> Inspiration from the original War of the Worlds audio file, specifically the words “Is there anybody on the air?" It gives me goosebumps every time. 
> 
> So yeah, Nepeta Leijon as a radio host who reports the end of the world -- who would have thought?
> 
> Tumblr is theadminchamomile.tumblr.com and my writing tag is #melanie writes. Thanks!
> 
> EDIT: This piece of work was inspired by (or really, it inspired) the auideas prompt "Is There Anybody on the Air?" (http://auideas.tumblr.com/post/122638364762/is-there-anybody-on-the-air-au). Technically, the fanfiction came before the prompt.


End file.
